Time to Move On
by astropixie
Summary: She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she wanted to tell him off. She wanted to ask if she was important to him, and she wanted to ask to go home. Tag on The Family of Blood.


A/N: I felt rather upset with the ending of "Family of Blood." I thought that the Doctor is using Martha and that it's just a bad situation for her. But then when I started writing this, with the intent to end it with Martha setting things straight with the Doctor, I went and understood what's going on. I think.

Anyway, this takes place right at the end of "Family of Blood." I used the dialogue, yes. Sorry. I ignored that kid Tim entirely, too.

I might do something else with this, but for now it's a one-shot. Enjoy!

Martha leaned against the TARDIS while she waited for the Doctor. It was cool and drizzly on top of the grassy hill, and she sniffed as she glanced up to the overcast sky. It was trying to rain. Trying to cry.

Martha didn't cry often, as years of medical school and a troubled family had toughened up her tear ducts. But she almost wanted to right now. She had just spent a month of her life serving and protecting a man she barely knew and obviously had no special interest in her. She had put up with all the horrors facing black women in the England of the past for an entire month, just for him, and so far she hadn't even gotten a simple "thank you."

No, instead she was standing outside his machine, out in the cold, waiting for him to return with his new lover; a woman who had no respect for her and had never had a real adventure with the Doctor. A woman who hadn't shared all the experiences she had shared with him. Just some random woman that he cared for more than he cared for her, apparently.

Her faint sadness gave way to annoyance. In any other circumstances with a guy, she would think she was being used. She chewed on that thought slowly, like it was a chocolate-covered coffee bean. Sweet revelation on the outside, bitter as she chewed it some more.

At last, she saw that mop of hair peeking over the hill. He was alone. She straightened slightly, stepping forward and crossing her arms in the cold. She watched him trudge up, his Converse chucks soaking wet in the dew of the grass. He glanced up between her and the dull ground, coming to a halt in front of her.

"Right, then," he said in greeting. His voice was cheerful as usual, but his face was telling.

Martha frowned. "How was she?"

The Doctor's face hardened even more. "Time we moved on."

"If you want, I could go-" Martha began, but the Doctor interrupted, his tone stern but his expression lighter.

"Time we moved on," he repeated.

Martha swallowed and looked to her feet. "Then, meant to say. Back there, last night—"

Why was she explaining herself? Why did she suddenly transform into a lovesick teenage girl? How did he do this to her?

She and the Doctor laughed away her awkwardness. She felt relief and resentment all at the same time. Still he hadn't apologized. And still she felt embarrassed for no good reason.

Finally, it came. "Thank you," the Doctor said, his goofy smile spreading across his face. Martha's frosty heart warmed over instantly as she rushed into his embrace. She reveled in the feeling of him, took in his smell…old books and something spicy. They separated, all smiles, and headed into the TARDIS for their next adventure.

"So!" the Doctor said happily, drawing out the "o" in the way that meant he was about to babble on for a while. "Where shall we go next? What shall we do? Oh, I know a place you'll just love, it's got these mice sorts of things with seventeen thick, juicy whiskers on each side of their little noses. Can you imagine, seventeen? It makes them look like Chinese fans! And that's not getting into why they would possibly evolve with just seventeen of them…"

Martha sat down on the bench by the controls while the Doctor pinwheeled about, all action, inane chatter, and electrified hair once again. Her happy buzz from being hugged by him was wearing off.

She had a life of her own to lead. She was a medical student with a family who needed her sanity, and not for the first time, she wondered if she should get back to that. All this traveling was great, if that's what they were doing…but a month in a hellish past? It wasn't right of him to ask her to help him like that. It just wasn't right.

"…distant relatives of the mice with nine long whiskers, of course, and they must have thought that nuts were rather chewier than the beetles, although that's pretty much a given, as I sure like nuts over beetle…never really had any beetles that I would take over a nut, but maybe pistachios…I don't like those very much, but I suppose that's still better than a beetle—"

"Doctor?" Martha interrupted.

"Hmm? Yes?" The Doctor's head appeared above the other side of the console. His eyes were wide and his glasses askew, as if she had just startled him.

Martha hesitated, wondering what she was about to say. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she wanted to tell him off. She wanted to ask if she was important to him, and she wanted to ask to go home.

A few seconds of silence ticked by, which was a rare and awkward occurrence in the TARDIS. The Doctor continued to stare at her with the same expression, completely unmoving. Waiting for what she was going to say.

"I don't really like mice," she said lamely.

The Doctor's face fell. "No? Aww, you don't know what you're missing. Adorable little cheese-eaters. Well, if you're sure, we'll just have to go somewhere else. Do you like kangaroos? I always wanted to have one as a pet, but I was afraid of what it would do to my TARDIS. Seems they would make a bit of a mess. I don't really know anyone who has a kangaroo, but I think I should do some research into this, don't you? Yes, let's have a nice little vacation with some hopping marsupials."

The Doctor stopped everything he was doing. He stared at the TARDIS console with a blank look, muttering to himself. Martha thought she heard him say "hopping for our lives" a few times. She knew instantly that he was thinking of Rose again, and regretted not being brave enough to speak her mind earlier. Again.

The Doctor looked up suddenly, dark eyes sad and desperate. He stared at her for a few moments. Then,

"Sorry," he said, shaking his shoulders out and turning back toward the knobs and dials of the TARDIS. "Blanked out for a second, there. Terribly sorry about that. You didn't say anything, did you?"

Martha cleared her throat. "Just that I like kangaroos, Doctor."

A big smile spread over his face, like a child. A 900-year-old genius, alien, crazed child. "You do? That's great! Off we go, then, Australia! The big Down Under. Shall we go see the Aborigines, or shall we see something more current? I wonder who knows more about kangaroos…."

Martha settled back in her chair, feeling more content with her situation now. The Doctor needed her. He needed someone.

The "thank yous" didn't come from his garrulous mouth. They came from those old, lonely eyes.

So she went with him to their next destination. But soon it would be time to move on.


End file.
